


Together

by Aki (Akiko_Natsuko)



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Dragon/Shapeshifter AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear, First Kiss, Friendship/Love, M/M, Promises, post-Return of Kings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 17:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17430332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Aki
Summary: Looking back on it, Fushimi realised that there had always been clues that there was something different about Misaki and his red.He just hadn't realised how different.





	Together

   Looking back on it, Fushimi realised that there had always been clues that there was something different about Misaki and his red. It had been there in the way that the other teen had come alive during Mikoto’s test, as though the flames had not only embraced him but woken something inside of him. And in the way, his red had been so closely tied to his emotions. Certainly, the red sanctum had always been chaotic and more emotional than any other sanctum, but it had always been on a completely different level when it came to Misaki, reacting before he had even registered what it was that he was feeling. It had been why it had been such a challenge to fight him, because while he lacked all tactical awareness, fighting someone whose flames could come quicker than thought had always kept him on his toes.

    However, while they had all noticed these things, and the fact that there was almost a physical need to use his red, that had been most evident in the months between Mikoto’s death and Anna’s rise when the vanguard had been a pale echo of himself. Not one of them had really thought that there was more to it, or maybe they hadn’t wanted to, because there had been so much going on and Misaki was their rock. Their ‘heart’, as Anna had called him once after he had wound up injured and the entire clan had been on edge for days until they knew he was going to be okay.

That was then.

     That was before they had destroyed the slates, willingly sacrificing their sanctums to stop JUNGLE. That had been before the long days, and months, as they’d watched their powers slowly fading away until all that was left, was an echo of the power that had once been there, sparks of blue, red and silver.

Apart from Misaki.

     Almost six months had passed before they realised that although his fire was dimmed, it hadn’t disappeared, and it showed no signs of fading. It would spark and dance around him when his emotions ran too high, and there were times when they would catch him conked out in the bar when there would be flickers of flame dancing across his skin, never enough to set anything on fire, but enough to tell them that something was wrong.

    Fushimi had been the first one to confront him about it after Yata had lost his temper at some gang members who thought that with HOMRA de-flamed, they could get away with terrorising some of the storekeepers in HOMRA’s territory. His eyes had been overly bright, more so than they had been when HOMRA was at the height of its strength, and he had barely managed to move aside before flames had erupted around Yata. Flames that not only shouldn’t have been possible any more, but flames that were wrong…off…in a way that he hadn’t been able to put a finger on until later that day once the fight was over, Scepter 4 sweeping in to clear up the mess, and his King’s eyes lingering a little too long on the vanguard for his liking.

“What happened to your red?” The question had burst out the moment they had settled at his table for dinner, a frequent occurrence recently as they worked on their reconciliation…and more, if he was honest with himself, and he wasn’t sure what to make of the confusion that met his question. He knew Misaki, perhaps better than ever since their understanding in the JUNGLE base, and he was a terrible liar, but there was no deception in his expression now. “It isn’t disappearing for one thing, not that I want you to lose it.” He added quickly, knowing that Misaki had dreaded losing his red, fearing that it would spell the end of HOMRA, but the last few months had hopefully put paid to that fear.

“I know…”

“And it’s not your red anymore,” Fushimi added softly, not sure what to make of the small voice. The shame that had clouded those two words. _Does he think HOMRA blame him for still having his red?_ He wondered, filing it away as an issue to deal with later, and making a note to mention it to Anna as he knew that she would be the best one to lay that fear to rest. HOMRA was worried about the lingering red, but he couldn’t seem them ever blaming Misaki for it, especially as it was becoming abundantly clear that he didn’t know what was going on. “It was the wrong colour…darker, wilder.” _Terrifying,_ he thought but refused to say aloud as Misaki had paled with each word. “Misaki…?”

“I don’t know.” That was a lie, or rather a half-truth because the confusion and fear weren’t feigned but the vanguard knew something or suspected something. Fushimi’s eyes narrowed, watching as Misaki shifted uneasily in his seat, scratching at his arm and doing everything in his power to avoid meeting his gaze.

“Misaki, what is going on?”

“I Don’t Know!” The entire table rattled as Yata shot to his feet and backed away, and the flames appeared again, flickering around him; still the wrong, too dark red and Fushimi mimicked his movement and backed up a few steps. “I don’t know. I don’t know…” Misaki didn’t seem to be aware of the flames, or the worried eyes fixated on him, hunching in on himself, scratching more frantically at his arms now, and for the first time, Fushimi realised that it had been weeks since he had seen the other without long sleeves on, and his frown deepened.

“Misaki,” he softened his voice, not sure how well it worked, because worry had always made his voice sharp, and he was rapidly moving past worried at this point. “Talk to me.” The irony of that plea wasn’t lost on him, and it was almost a relief when Misaki actually snorted. “I just want to help.” It was more than that. He needed to help, terrified that whatever the hell was going on was going put fresh distance between them and refusing to let that happen. Not now, not when they were close to being more, and he took a cautious step forward, only to falter as the flames flickered higher and a noise that was a little too much like a growl for comfort rang through the room. “Misaki…” His voice trailed off as Misaki finally looked up at him, voice catching, as fear closed his throat.

Because it wasn’t Misaki, who was looking back at him.

    The hazel eyes that had been filled with confusion and fear only seconds before had disappeared, replaced with a deep, burnt amber surrounded slitted pupils that flickered, tracking his every move as he slowly spread his arms, trying to show he wasn’t a threat. Misaki growled again, but it was less threatening this time, and more disturbed, and suddenly the burning gaze slid away from his. Then Misaki was retreating, stumbling back until he reached the wall, colliding with a soft thud and then sliding down it until he was huddled on the floor, arms wrapped around his knees as he huddled in on himself. The noise he made now was more akin to a whimper, and while Fushimi was still terrified and confused, there was no way he could ignore a sound like that, and he began to inch forwards once more, keeping his steps deliberate and slow.

“Saruhiko…” Misaki’s voice was muffled, the words almost lost, but Fushimi was close enough to just catch them, and he hummed quietly to show that he was listening, even as he took the last few steps to reach him, crouching at his side. Ignoring the small voice that told him he was being reckless, that he had no idea what this version of Misaki was capable. “What is happening to me?” There was no feigning the level of desperation in that question, and Fushimi felt his heart sink at the sound. He had been hoping that Misaki had some idea of what the hell was happening to him, and had just been too afraid to say it, but those words had just killed that idea and he swallowed nervously.

“I don’t know.” He always hated admitting that he didn’t know something, it was why he had always put in a lot more effort than he would ever show to make sure he had all the information that he needed at his fingertips. It was worse this time because he knew that Misaki had been praying he would have answers, that he would have something to say that would explain what the hell was happening, and there was no missing the flinch that greeted his words.

    It took more courage than he cared to admit to reach out, fingers slipping under Misaki’s chin, and slowly lifting it from it’s hiding place. Struggling not to recoil or react, as he realised that the skin beneath his fingers was giving away to something harder, something that was almost silky to the touch, he swallowed as Misaki finally met his gaze. The eyes were unnerving, although no longer as fierce as they had been seconds before, instead, even in their current form they looked lost. Frightened. However, what gave him pause was the other changes that were seeping into the vanguard’s features, the ridges of scales that were slowly forming around his eyes, the vermillion colour a stark contrast to his unusually pale skin. And even before he looked, he knew that more were forming under Yata’s chin, and he had a feeling that if he pulled aside the sleeves, he would find more evidence of this change.

“I’m a monster,” Misaki whispered, trying to pull away, and this time Fushimi realised that there was another reason for the muffled voice as he caught a glimpse of sharp teeth. Inhuman teeth. The instincts that had kept him alive so far were screaming at him to back away, to put as much distance between them as possible, especially as sparks skittered across the scales, but when they brushed his skin there was nothing, but a soothing warmth and he blinked, before sternly quashing the urge to flee.

_This is Misaki._

    That was what it boiled down to he realised as he spent a moment just studying the vanguard, taking in the scales still creeping across the panicked features, Misaki’s breathing speeding up under his close observation. The fear was still there, the primal urge to get away from danger vibrating beneath his skin, but those feelings were weak in comparison to the knowledge that this was Misaki. That this change, whatever it was, scared Misaki as much as it frightened him, and his voice was soft without effort this time, as he moved his fingers, reaching up to brush against a scaled cheek.

“No, you’re not.”

“But…”

“I don’t know what is going on.” It was just as hard to admit that this time as it had been the first, especially as he felt Misaki trembling.  “But we will find out, and we will deal with it.” He put as much emphasis as he could on the ‘we’, and he was rewarded by a flicker of hope in the eerie eyes, but he could see that it still wasn’t enough, and he sighed before an idea occurred to him. Misaki had always believed actions over words, and Fushimi knew that he was a large part of the reason for that, having used his words to misdirect the red more often than he cared to admit. Maybe that was why he had the courage to move forward, or maybe it was the way that Misaki was staring at him, for once needing him to be the one to help, to give him answers, realising with a start that he was the first person to see all this.

“Together,” he added, voice barely above a whisper as he leant in to kiss Misaki. It was nothing like he had imagined their first kiss going, but as he felt Misaki leaning in, trembling fingers reaching for the front of his clothes, he decided that it didn’t matter. Just as it didn’t matter that there was a mixture of scales and skin beneath his hands as he cusped Misaki’s face, or the prick of claws against his front as Misaki’s grip tightened. It was all too short, which considering the situation that was to be expected, but the tiny flicker of a smile on Misaki’s lips, and the flicker of hope that had become a flame in the amber eyes, meant more than a lingering kiss ever could. “Okay?” He asked softly, and Misaki swallowed, glancing down at where his clawed fingers were buried in Saru’s shirt, and then back up and seeing nothing but sincerity and determination he nodded.

“Okay…”

_Together._

 


End file.
